


Cause Its Running You With Red

by kwillow19



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Biting, Episode 2x20, F/F, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 20:04:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4535478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kwillow19/pseuds/kwillow19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set sometime after episode 2x20, Carmilla isn't healing quickly and is out of resources. Laura offers herself. Laura POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cause Its Running You With Red

**Author's Note:**

> This is a oneshot. It's unbeta-ed so let me know if you see any glaring mistakes. Title is from Bon Iver's Blood Bank. It made sense in my head. Hope you enjoy!

The bags are empty.

I stand at the fridge awkwardly staring at the vacant plastic shells hoping to magically make them full just by sheer will. I know the truth, though. They've been dwindling faster than LaFontaine's resources can supply. Baron Vordenberg's regime has made it nearly impossible for us to gain access to fresh blood without raising a high level of suspicion. It was hard enough to keep Carmilla fed, but now we're tasked with providing for two.  The inevitable shortage is not news to anyone in this house. In fact, LaFontaine and Mattie are out right now attempting to procure more. We tried to convince Mattie to stay put, but she insisted that she go along. And, frankly, I'm okay with providing a little breathing room between her and Perry.

Carmilla's soft whimper from the other room pulls me from my thoughts. She's taking longer to heal than I would have expected. It's worrying me a lot more than I'm willing to let on. Everything is buried these days. Feelings are shoved below because there's simply no space for them in this situation.

I had been keeping watch at the window of the front room in case LaF and Mattie ran into any trouble on the way back. The house is so still. Carmilla's labored moans of pain just echo through bouncing off my chest and reverberating in my conscience. And, it's not like I needed any help in the department of being reminded to think about her. She's pretty much the only thing in my brain.

I go against my better judgement and slowly approach the bedroom she's resting in. We've tried to only keep her in the hidden passage ways when necessary. Healing seems like it should go a lot faster when you're comfortable, but I don't know if there's really any truth to that. I enter the dark room and give myself a moment for my eyes to adjust. A soft glow shines in from the lights outside. It's enough for me to see the discarded bags on the floor and an impossibly pale looking Carmilla lying on the bed. Her brow is scrunched in pain. My heart twists. 

"What do you want?" Carmilla softly asks, not bothering to open her eyes.

It halts my progress towards the bed. I fidget with my hands for a moment to buy me some time to come up with an answer.

"Cupcake?" she questions, again.

"I just…" I start and then hesitate. "You sounded like you are in pain and I wanted to see if I could get you anything."

She chuckles very softly, no doubt smirking at my sad attempt to help.

"Some days are made for suffering," she finally says. She shifts a little, chancing a glance at me. 

I tentatively make my way over and sit down on the edge of the bed leaving plenty of room between us. 

"Any news from Mattie yet?" she asks.

I just shake my head. I'm compelled to make contact with her so I reach out and run my index finger across the top of her hand. I suck in a sharp breath.

"Carm, you're freezing," I state, covering her hand completely with my own.

"Chest injury. No blood. Vampire." She lists for me in her most apathetic voice.

"I know. I know," I say mostly to myself. "We're just working so hard to keep you alive. I'd be great if you could stay that way."

"I'm doing my best," she responds quickly, adjusting her position again and closing her eyes. 

I move my hand up to her chest wound and inspect it briefly to make sure there aren't any signs of infection. She twitches slightly at my touch.

"What does it feel like?" I ask in a whisper.

"You ever been stabbed in the chest?" she questions back.

"No," I answer.

"It feels like I've been stabbed in the chest," she quips. 

I move my hand to rest on top of hers and let the quiet sit between us. I don't know what to do other than just be here. There's this obvious option of offering myself up as a human Capri Sun. But every time I go to say the words, they stick in my throat. I keep thinking that any second now LaF and Mattie will waltz in with new bags and my offer would seem too hasty. I know what her answer will be anyway, and the thought of her condescending gaze telling me I'm a foolish child for offering keeps me terrified from broaching the subject. 

But the gaps between feeding days keep growing longer. Carmilla's health is not progressing. I won't watch her slowly die. Not again.

"Carmilla," I say, timidly.

I hear her groan and mumble, "here we go."

"I don't know when they're going to get back. And, I'm really concerned about how cold you are. You look like..."

"Like that time you almost starved me to death," Carmilla interrupts.

"Exactly," I reply, gripping her hand tighter. "I know this sounds drastic, but I think you should feed… from me."

"No," she says quickly and matter-of-factly.

"No?" I question.

"No," she repeats. "Look, Cupcake. Does this hurt like hell? Yes. But offering up yourself is out of the question."

"You've done it before in a less dire situation than this," I counter. "I trust that you can control yourself. I don't see what the difference is."

"You wouldn't," she replies under her breath. The anger evident in her voice. "This isn't about control. It's about lines. It's about well-drawn, bright yellow caution tape, big obvious lines. The least you could do is give me the courtesy of protecting myself."

"So you can snack on random strangers, but its too much to ask you to feed from me?" I ask, annoyed.

"Bingo, Lois Lane," she responds in a huff. "Damn it." She winces as she places her hand over the wound.

"You need to let me do this," I state.

"And, you need to back off," she replies.

We're caught in a stare down or maybe its more of a glare down. I shouldn't be working her up like this, but we have no choice. This is us. We're either at each other's throats for pain or pleasure. Now, I just want her at mine for both.

Her eyes bore into mine relentlessly and then I see them slip. They turn up as she starts to convulse. 

"Carm," I yell, grabbing at her shoulder. The bags on the floor catch my attention and I drop down to find the freshest one. I squeeze at the plastic working as much of the remnants as I can down to the spout. I put it at Carmilla's lips in desperate hope that just a drop will be enough to calm her for a moment. I'm able to work a small amount into her mouth and her shaking resides. She opens her eyes slowly.

"We're doing this," I state, as pull her up to a sitting position. I grab as many pillows as I can to prop her up. She just watches me too spent to argue.

I climb onto the bed and settle myself straddling her lap. She licks her lips. Her eyes showing a little more light just from the small amount of blood she's consumed. I sweep my hair off my shoulder and expose as much of my neck as I can. The reality of this moment thunders in my chest. I'm nervous. It's not because of the bite, but just those nerves that rack your system at the doctors or dentists or a particularly sticky band-aid being removed. It's clinical, I tell myself.

"Stop shaking," Carmilla whispers. She's motionless sitting back against the pillows staring at me in her lap. I feel so small in this moment. "It's going to hurt," she continues. Her hands move to grab my waist pulling us closer together. "And, for the record, I don't want to do this."

"Noted," I say, with a shaky voice.

Her lips settle against my neck and the odd sensation of her cold tongue against my overheated skin causes me to shift in her lap. The softest of hums precedes the piercing pain as her teeth sink into my flesh. The shock to my system triggers the adrenaline and as it kicks in I settle into position. I rub my hands nervously on my thighs. I feel her adjust her mouth ever so slightly and tighten her jaw. I swallow a whimper and grab tightly at the front of her shirt with both hands. 

My breathing becomes more labored as the seconds take their sweet time ticking by. The sensation stirring some inexplicable feeling in my chest. This is not like last time. She's right. This is nothing like last time.

The moment is delicately intimate. I'm not a snack. I'm a life source. And she feeds from me as though I'm the only thing keeping something carnal inside her alive. With no warning, she unlatches her mouth from my neck and I gasp in response. I feel her tongue, much warmer now, lapping at the holes in my neck. There's a ringing in my ears. Everything is so bright, like the contrast is turned up burning out the shapes in the room. Then it is all engulfed in white. 

******

"Laura," I hear Carmilla say. 

I open my eyes a little confused at my position. I'm still facing her, but now I'm laying flush on top of her. She's propped up somewhat by the pillows in the reclining position. Her fingers are running through my hair softly, and my head is resting on her shoulder. 

"You passed out," she informs me. 

I push myself up quickly returning to my previous straddling position on her lap. 

"Whoa," she says, grabbing at my shoulders to steady me. 

"I'm ok," I state. 

"Sure," she nods at me in disbelief.

I lean forward slowly and press my forehead against hers. My eyes close on their own accord. 

"I'm just going to rest here for a moment," I say, struggling to finish my words.

She cups my face with both hands, her thumbs stroking softly against my cheeks. Her touch is pulling me in. Our mouths hover over each others. I shift my hips forward in her lap bringing us in closer contact. Her hands slip down. Her fingertips brushing against the skin exposed between the bottom of my shirt and the top of my pajama pants. I hum as I move my hands to the back of her neck.

"Laura," she whispers in a warning tone.

It's too easy to sit here in this embrace. It's too easy to pretend that these last few weeks never happened and we're both healthy and alone in this moment. That there's no real monsters waiting on the other side of that door in the shape of our own stupid stubbornness.

"Carm," I respond to her plea. Her name bubbles out of me as an unintentional moan. I can feel her shiver.

I begin lightly rocking in her lap. My hips pushing down into her. The lightheadedness returns as my blood leaves my head to provide for my other needs. It suddenly feels like an excuse. She drained me and now I'm not thinking clearly. It's too easy to believe that.

"Laura," she whispers again, this time with significantly less resolve in her tone.

"I need you," I say. 

I'm grinding into her quite shamelessly now seeking more friction. _I need you._ I don't want to think about what those words mean. She needed my blood. I need her touch. It's selfish, I know. Maybe I can't say the words right now, but she has to know. Please know.

"For the record," she says, through heavy breaths. "I don't think we should be doing this, either."

"Duly noted," I respond. My voice hoarse with desire.

I moan as her hand slips past the waist of my pants, underneath my panties and right into my waiting heat. Her fingers stroke against me. I try my best to stay upright and not simply melt into a puddle at her touch. Then she pushes inside of me, and I lose that battle. My forehead moves down to rest against her shoulder as my hips move in time with her thrusts. My head is spinning with desire. I can only hear the pulsing of blood through my body. My throat constricts, no doubt emitting involuntary low whines as she coaxes me closer and closer to my release. I turn my head slightly digging it into the side of her neck as I thread my fingers up into her hair. I keep my eyes closed as we move in sync rolling into each other with such force and purpose. Time stretches into long, vigorous minutes as I feel the sweat trickle down my back.

Then that singular moment occurs where I arch into her touch. My hips thrust down taking her in as deep as possible. I let out a strangled moan that echoes through the room.

I raise my head up quickly and cover her lips with my own. I lay warm, open kisses on her mouth as our tongues stroke each other's in desperation. We stay attached that way languidly kissing until my heart rate settles and last of the waves ripple through me. I realize then that my hands have moved down and are pressed against her upper chest. I remove my right hand quickly as though my touch would burn her. 

"Oh my god," I gasp. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize I was pushing on your wound."

"What?" she asks, hazily. Her eyes look healthy but are unfocused. It's then that I finally see how intoxicated she is from feeding on me. 

"Your chest," I say, as I push her shirt neck down to inspect the wound. It's still very much there, but looks less irritated and completely closed. "How did this happen?"

"Fresh blood, cupcake," she responds. "The bags are like fast food. Feeding from a human is like a 4-course meal."

I look up from her chest and she's staring at me intensely. We lock eyes, our breathing in sync.

"Feeding from someone you love," she continues. "It's like…"

Her words trail off as we both recognize that there are none for this moment. I swallow attempting to wet my dry throat. The phrase "I love you, too" bounces in my brain over and over again. It's almost as if she can hear it as I watch the smirk spread across her lips. My chest is rising and falling deeply. Our eyes fixed upon each other. The sound of a creak from upstairs finally breaks our focus. I look up instinctually at the noise. Oh God. I don't even want to know what we've subjected Perry and JP to tonight. I feel my world suddenly turning. Carmilla has taken me by the hips and is lifting me off of her to lay me down on the bed.

As soon as my back hits the mattress, she's gone. I stare up at the canopy over our bed. In my head, I can see the universe swirling above me. The stars and their corresponding constellations shining down on me. They are tempting me with their warm reminder of Carmilla's body pressed so firmly against mine. Reminding me of the feeling as she mapped her own set of constellations across my skin that night. A reminder that, in that moment, I believed we were perfection.

Reality sits outside that door. Carmilla and I can draw all the 'bright yellow caution tape, big obvious lines' we want. It's not rational, this love. But it's ours.

I shift my gaze back down from the canopy towards the door just in time to see Carmilla closing it behind her upon her return. She walks over to the empty side of the bed and sits down. I scoot back up into the sitting position and turn my head toward her. She hands me a glass of juice, the condensation slipping down the sides. 

"Hey," she says softly.

"Hey," I respond.

I take a sip.


End file.
